


Burke's Two

by tigerlady (shetiger)



Category: White Collar
Genre: Abuse of furniture, Episode Related, F/M, Hot married sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-21
Updated: 2011-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 11:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetiger/pseuds/tigerlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want you to go, and I want you to buy me some flowers. You know the ones I love. When you walk through the door, I want you to kiss me. Then you're going to sweep me off my feet, and you're gonna make love to me. Can you do that?" -Elizabeth, <i>Burke's Seven</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Burke's Two

Peter walks through the door with dirt on his shirt, a badge on his belt, and flowers in his hand. Purple freesia, which means he went to the effort of finding a place that carries her favorite instead of just stopping for roses at the kiosk across the street from his building. Elizabeth drains the last of her wine and sets the glass down next to her empty plate, untucks her foot from under her knee, and stands to greet him.

"I take it things went well?" she asks as he strides across the room. She holds her hand out for the flowers, but instead of handing them over, he wraps his arms around her back, dipping her close to the ground right before he lays one hell of a kiss on her lips.

"Mmm," she says once she's upright again, fingers knotted into his shirt. She knows him in this mood. Full of satisfaction and not a little bit of testosterone, pleased with himself and her and ready to show it. She presses her chest into his, smiling up at him. "I think I like where this is going."

He smiles and kisses her on the tip of her nose, then glances over her shoulder, towards the table.

"Linguini with clam sauce," she tells him. "I can heat up a plate--"

"No," he says, pressing his index finger to her lips. "No, I think I'm more than ready for dessert."

She raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything, going along with his implicit instructions. Her own excitement from playing a part in the con had started to wear off, especially as the day dragged on without word, but it comes roaring back with the nudge of Peter's playful mood. He kisses her breathless as his fingers find the hem of her shirt and tug it upwards. He breaks away from her mouth to guide it over her head, taking the time to gather her hair away from the pull of the cloth--and then he swoops back in before she sees whether he drops it on the chair next to them or the floor.

Right now, she really doesn't care where her silk ends up.

She manages to get half of the buttons on his shirt undone before he starts on her pants. He drags his fingers under her waistband, finding her panties, too, then pushes both down off her hips. She gets one leg free, tries for the other--but Peter straight-arms her up and onto the table.

"Oh, God," she says as he drops to his knees. All thoughts of who gets stuck with Lysol-duty flee her mind. She spreads her knees as he leans forward, settling her ankles over his back. Her pants are flopping around her left foot, her panties ringing her knee, but it doesn't matter how ridiculous she looks. Not when his breath is hot against her cunt.

"Please, now," she says, and Peter obeys, spreading her wide with his hands. Elizabeth shudders at the first touch of his tongue, her whole body clenching with _too much_ at once. But that passes with her first full breath, and all she wants is more. He circles her clit slowly, getting her warmed up. Her hips start rolling, chasing his touch. Peter takes that as the signal to move down and start tongue-fucking her.

"That's so good." She can't always come this way, but there's nothing quite like Peter working to fill her with the soft, strong heat of his tongue. She feels invulnerable like this, her whole body alive and singing with power. "So close, honey."

He moves back to her clit, stroking hard and broad and fast, and pushes two fingers in to find her G-spot. Elizabeth comes so hard the table shakes like they've been hit by an earthquake. There's a dull clink next to her head, the sound of her wine glass tipping over to meet the edge of the plate. Peter gentles her through coming down, kissing the inside of her thigh before he stands back up.

Elizabeth, still breathing hard, stares at him. "Wow. So, definitely a good day."

"The best," he says, unbuckling his belt. "Put away a bad guy, restored justice in the land, and got to see my hottest operative in action."

"Mmm, yes," she says, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "Clinton was pretty smokin' in that utility uniform."

She laughs at his disapproving eyebrow, but her teasing doesn't slow him down any. He has his jeans unzipped and his boxers pushed down to his ankles before she's stopped giggling completely. Then he catches hold of her thighs, steps forward, and pushes in, and her breath stops completely. She's so sensitive from her first orgasm that she's on the edge again, her whole body tingling in maddening, delicious ways.

"God, I love you," Peter says.

"Love you, too," she says, and moves to lie back, so that the position is a bit better for both of them. He stops her, catching her around the waist and pulling her deeper onto his cock.

"Not this time," he says--and then he stands up straight, picking her up off the table.

Elizabeth cries out, nearly drowning out Peter's grunt. They hold there for a moment, breathing together through the intensity of this position. Peter is staring into her eyes. It's impossible not to see all his love there, the pride and lust and need for her. All of the trust. This is why, although she might laugh at his awkwardness or tease him about his communication skills, she will never, ever complain about feeling unloved.

Peter brings a hand up, holding her steady with one arm, and brushes a single strand of hair out of her face. He kisses her gently.

Then he turns, walks them to the bookcase column beside the table, and pins her against the shelves. He eases his hips back slowly, then thrusts in hard. Elizabeth drops her head back, ignoring the thin spine of a picture book creasing an edge into her scalp.

"God, you're good at this," she pants out.

"Thorough research. Years of practice." That he gets the words out at all is an offense to her pride. Elizabeth squeezes. Peter groans and drops his head next to hers, his breath loud in her ear. She'd laugh at her victory, except he somehow manages to pick up the pace.

"Yeah," she gasps, all competitiveness gone now, replaced by pure need. "Just like that. _Yes._ "

Peter's grunting with every thrust, lifting her and pushing her back against the books, but the only thing that matters is the way he's hitting her right where she needs it. She tilts her pelvis, trying to get just that much more--and God, that does it. Elizabeth knows she's digging her fingers in too hard as she comes, that he'll have marks on the back of his arm and neck tomorrow, but she can't ease up. A book goes tumbling to the floor, knocked off the opposite side of the shelf by their efforts.

Peter thrusts a few more times, dragging her orgasm out, and then he starts coming. His grip is tight on her ass, holding her open against him, and she wishes they could start all over again, right now.

"Christ," he finally says, grip easing at last. He pulls out and helps her find her footing on the floor. It's not easy; her legs are jello and her pants are still tangled around her foot. Peter brushes her hair back again, giving her a concerned look. "Was that-- Are you okay?"

Elizabeth laughs. "Are you seriously asking me that? Wow."

He smiles, a bit of pride creeping into it. "Well. I did have very specific instructions. Just wanted to make sure I didn't mess up."

She pats him on the cheek. "You went above and beyond, honey." She looks around, taking in the mess they've left in their wake. "Although now we've got some cleaning to do."

He catches her hand and presses a kiss to her palm. "Hey, I've got a brilliant idea. Why don't we leave it till morning, and head upstairs instead?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Why, you have some other evil scheme you're masterminding?"

"Mmm hmm," he says, tugging her towards the staircase. "I've got a plan and everything."

"Well," she says, smiling up at him. "Sounds like a perfect mission for Burke's Two."

END


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